


leave elegance to the tailor

by lieanni (orphan_account)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothed Sex, Crying, Degradation, Heir! San, M/M, Nipple Play, Praise Kink, Spanking, Tailor! Seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lieanni
Summary: San rolls his eyes. “My relationship with Seonghwa is strictly professional.”“My relationship with Seonghwa is strictly professional,” Wooyoung mocks, voice oddly pitched and doubly annoying. God, does San really sound like that? “Sure, San. Sure.”
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 24
Kudos: 251





	leave elegance to the tailor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskybusiness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskybusiness/gifts).



> Cas: write something in my style  
> Em: / replaces semicolons with periods and em dashes, unitalicizes things, deletes seventy sentences of unnecessary and redundant description, falls down an eau de toilette research rabbit-hole, throws in a bit about cars, and calls it a day /
> 
> This work is entirely the result of one comment, one tweet, and a one-sentence-long prompt that I somehow expanded into 8k words, which Cas is definitely going to yell at me for because it was supposed to be < 3k. Haha!
> 
> Enjoy!

San looks from the card in his hand to the shop in front of him.

Then, he does it again. Slower, this time, for accuracy.

Nothing changes. The name on the card matches up with the header on the storefront, sure, but for the place that Yunho claimed “the best suit and tailor in the nation”, San was expecting more. The place isn’t bad-looking by any means - as far as modern design principles go, it checks most boxes. It just doesn’t stand out in any particular way, too contemporary to be quaint but not voguish enough to be eye-catching.

He considers calling Yunho to triple-check, but Wooyoung’s shrill, (endearingly) annoying voice pierces through his head. _Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to be such a prissy little bitch_ , he sing-songs, _you’re the reason why people think heirs are such snooty, stuck-up assholes._ From someone who acquired a Ferrari last week in a spur-of-the-moment purchase, Wooyoung really isn’t qualified to be saying those kinds of things to San. But Wooyoung also isn’t here, so with a silent touché at no one, San pulls open the door and strolls inside.

A bell sounds, causing San to jump. Thankfully, a quick sweep of the room informs him that nobody was available to witness his mishap. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be anyone in the store at all, and San begins to think that maybe he should have called Yunho after all. The emptiness is somewhat eerie, and San’s thoughts wander in a more morbid direction. This isn’t the way that he wants to go - “Company Heir Murdered in Suit Store” just doesn’t have a nice ring to it. Something like “Billionaire Heir Found Dead in Penthouse with Mysterious, Hand-Written Message Found in Pocket” is much more up San’s alley.

“Be right there!”

San starts at the sound and lets out a (hopefully) quiet yelp. He wonders if he should yell some kind of affirmation back, but decides that it’s probably unnecessary. Also, his voice might crack, and San has already faced enough embarrassment for today, thank you very much. 

He makes his way over to one of the chairs at the side of the room and takes a seat. San surveys the inside of the store, and though he’s not exactly impressed, he does find it respectable. It’s about what you’d expect from the exterior - classy in a muted way, sleek but not showy. San can appreciate the organization of suit jackets on display, colors woven in a way that’s rather unconventional but surprisingly pleasing to the eye. Also, he’s a sucker for a good, uniform color scheme, and the monochrome palette and burgundy wood accents don't leave much to be desired.

 _God, you’re so pretentious_ , he hears Wooyoung snort. San makes a mental note to start hanging out more with people who aren’t Wooyoung. 

“Sorry for the wait,” a voice calls, and San glances over to the back of the shop to see a man emerge from a side room, tape measurement in hand. As expected, he dons a suit, and though the comparison isn’t fair - everyone looks better in a suit, right? - San shifts self-consciously in his chair, hands coming up to smooth out invisible wrinkles in his shirt. 

As the man gets closer, San realizes, with some amusement, that even he is a reflection of the shop’s exterior. The man is rather tall, but not strikingly so, and his build is fit in a way that avoids overwhelming. The rest of his appearance mirrors the impeccable cleanliness of his attire, and he’s pretty much exactly what San would imagine a suit tailor to look like, features and expression set in a way that screams proper. Even the way he walks is somehow regal, steps barely sounding on the marbled floor beneath them. He’s younger than San expected - most of San’s past tailors had been no younger than fifty - and San pins him around thirty-five. 

“Mr. Choi, correct?” the man asks.

San nods. “2:30 PM appointment.”

“Yes. My apologies for the wait. A new shipment of ties came in, and I lost track of time checking them against the order.”

San wants to laugh at how dignified even his language is, but refrains with the thought that he might have to come back here someday. “No worries! And you are..?”

“Call me Seonghwa, please.” Seonghwa gives him a smile that looks more painful than anything, and San beams back at him. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa! I heard from Yunho that you’re very good at your job, so I thought I’d drop by and check it out.”

“Yunho is too kind, but I do appreciate that you took his word and came by. You’re looking to get fitted for a full suit, correct? Notch lapel for the jacket, vertical sidepockets and single hem for the pants?”

“That’s correct.”

“Anything else in particular you had in mind?”

San feels like he’s talking to an uptight customer service kiosk. “No, you have free creative reign over the rest. The world is your canvas! Well, actually, I guess I’m your canvas.”

San’s joke does not land. Ironic, given that the pained grin that now stretches across Seonghwa’s face makes him look like an aggrieved father of two. _Haha, get it? Because it was a dad joke?_

Times like this remind San of why he keeps Wooyoung around. Despite Wooyoung’s affinity for making San’s life miserable, at least he laughs at San’s jokes.

“Alright, I know you’re a busy man, so let’s get right to it.”

Seonghwa walks over to the counter and swiftly retrieves a tape measure. He paces back over to San, then gestures to San’s left arm, and San holds it out so that Seonghwa can take his measurements. The process is repeated on San’s right, and San - perhaps because he has nothing better to do, or perhaps because of other reasons that will remain undisclosed - takes the opportunity to get a closer look at Seonghwa’s face.

San has had a fling or two with celebrities that most people would faint in the mere presence of, so Seonghwa isn’t exactly the most attractive person that San has ever seen. Still, he does hold his own, the flush of his lashes and cut of his high-set cheekbones no doubt things to be reckoned with.

“Lift both of your arms, please.”

Seonghwa leans in and twirls the measure around San’s torso, bringing the two of them close enough for San to gather that Seonghwa smells like fresh linen with fougère - cedar? - undertones, the scent cut through by some sort of chypre that’s probably undershave. San’s best guess is Bleu or Amouage for the base and Egoiste for the overlay. It could also be Neroli Portofino, but how much does a tailor make, anyways? 

_Okay, shut the fuck up, Wooyoung, I know it makes me sound like a prick._

Wooyoung has his cars, San can have his arguably too-large eau de toilette collection.

While San’s busy bickering with the Wooyoung in his head, Seonghwa leans down to measure his legs, coming eye-level with San’s waist. His fingers are long and nimble as they trail the measure down San’s right side, and San briefly glances down at Seonghwa before deciding that the angle is a bit too awkward to stare.

“Do you run this place alone?”

Seonghwa’s movements don’t falter as he moves over to San’s left side, but the minute raise of his eyebrows suggest that he’s surprised by the question.

“Yes, I do.”

Silence again lapses over them. Sure, San could take it as a hint that maybe Seonghwa doesn’t want to make small talk, but San is curious and bored, so he tries to come up with a question that requires more than a three-word answer.

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Seonghwa laughs, the sound deep and soft, and San gives himself a mental pat on the back. 

“No, I’ve gotten used to it. Besides, I see customers like yourself every day, so it doesn’t get too mundane in here.” 

_Mundane_. And Wooyoung thinks San is pretentious. 

“Glad to know that I’m a highlight of your day, then,” San grins, and Seonghwa spares a glance up at him as he measures around San’s ankle. He looks faintly amused, but there’s something more in his expression that San can’t quite pinpoint.

“I suppose so.”

Seonghwa makes no effort to prolong the conversation, and now the silence is uncomfortable. In a sense, San feels wronged - sure, he’s not as sociable as Wooyoung, but he’s personable enough. San knows that he’s not awkward, but Seonghwa sure makes him feel that way. Thankfully, before San can dig himself further into a hole, Seonghwa stands back up.

“That’s all the measurements,” he announces with a tap to the measure.

“Great. What’s next?”

“I’ll get your measurements logged, then see what I can find for you. I’ll have some selections ready soon - does the same time next week work?”

San pulls out his phone and takes a quick look at his calendar. He swipes away the lunch he has scheduled with Wooyoung, then looks back up with a smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll make a note on the schedule,” Seonghwa responds, not making a note on any schedule whatsoever. San raises his eyebrows, and Seonghwa reads the question on his face and smiles.

“I keep track of most things in my head, but if it’ll make you feel better, I can pretend to write it down somewhere.”

“That’s alright, but I appreciate the offer to humor me.”

Seonghwa gives him a courteous nod, and San’s amused until he realizes that the look in Seonghwa’s eyes is back. It’s soft and plaintive, but for some reason rubs San the wrong way. It’s not exactly condescending, but from the many meetings with business associates years his senior, that’s the closest comparison that San has. San presses his lips into a thin line, but figures that he’s probably just being defensive.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“Actually, yes. I have a gala event tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you had any ties to go with a navy suit.”

Seonghwa pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates. “There are some things in the new shipment that you might like. Excuse me for a minute, yes?”

San nods, and decides to take a stroll around the shop while Seonghwa retrieves the ties from the back room. Every piece in the store contributes fantastically to the uniform theme, down even to the metallic, slate gray pen slotted on the countertop. San appreciates the attention to detail, and makes a mental note to ask Seonghwa - during the next lapse of quiet, which was bound to occur - if he did the interior design himself.

Still, something on the wall behind the counter catches his eye, and San pads closer to investigate. He’s surprised he didn’t notice it before, because the artwork is a conspicuous, bright jumble against its pristinely muted surroundings. Really, it’s not even artwork, it’s just a series of unintelligible scribbles in crayon, but San’s not jaded enough to dash the artistic dreams and expressions of a five-year-old.

“Where is that from?” San asks when Seonghwa returns. Seonghwa follows San’s gesture and grins.

“Oh, my niece made that for me. As you can see, she’s quite the artist.”

“The Jackson Pollock of squiggles,” San muses, and Seonghwa laughs, the sound finally genuine. “So the sophisticated jokes work, huh?”

The smile doesn’t leave Seonghwa’s face as he shrugs at San. The action is pleasantly casual, and San, seeing an opening, presses to keep the conversation going.

“No kids of your own, then?”

Seonghwa looks astonished, and San, afraid that he’s hit a nerve, quickly backpedals. “I only say that because I figured that they’d be jealous if you hung up your niece’s work and not theirs. I know that I would be.”

San’s not quite sure why he added on the last sentence, but it does make Seonghwa grin, so he doesn’t beat himself up over it.

“No, none of my own.” Seonghwa ends the conversation there, smoothing one of the ties that rests against his forearm before holding it out to San. As he takes the piece from Seonghwa, San can’t help but notice the lack of rings adorning Seonghwa’s fingers. He’s a bit surprised by the realization but has the good conscience not to ask, deciding that he’s already pushed Seonghwa enough on personal matters.

“I personally recommend this french blue tie, but you can’t go wrong with the maroon one.”

Seonghwa’ recommendation is good enough for San, and the two of them walk over to the register to complete the transaction. With a start, San realizes that he doesn’t have his card on him, because Wooyoung had asked to borrow it “really quickly, I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

Seonghwa must understand the panicked look on San’s face, because he interjects before San can apologize.

“Don’t worry about it - you’re coming back next week, so you can just pay then.”

“Are you sure?”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow at him. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“What if I don’t come back next week?”

Seonghwa lets out an amused huff, and his fingers don’t halt as he tears a sheet of wrapping paper and packages the tie. “You’d risk indictment on charges of petty theft for a single tie?”

San grins as Seonghwa bags the item and hands it to him. “You’re right, I’ll risk it when you finally hand me the entire suit.”

Seonghwa smiles at San, corners of his eyes crinkling. “Alright. See you next week, Mr. Choi.”

\---

This time, when San enters the shop, the jingle of the bell is much more welcome. Seonghwa looks up from his place at the counter, attention quickly drawn from San’s entrance to the decorated pink cake box in San’s hands.

“This is for you,” San says, placing the box on the counter, “For letting me take the tie last time.”

Seonghwa nods in appreciation, and San is delighted by the way his lips tug upwards at the corners. “Thank you. Is this how you’re planning to pay me, or..?”

San holds back a scoff, deciding that prim and proper Seonghwa would find it distasteful. “No,” he says, fishing out his wallet. “Just an additional gift.”

He hands a card out to Seonghwa, but Seonghwa waves it away. “You can pay me at the end, after you’ve gotten all the pieces fitted.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’m going to run off without paying, suit and tie and all?”

Seonghwa pauses. “We already had this conversation last time, no?”

San throws his hands up in defense. “Just double-checking. Petty theft is nothing to joke around about.”

This earns him a chuckle from Seonghwa, and San’s glad that he seems to be in a better mood today.

“In preparation for your arrival, I hung up a few pieces that I think you may be interested in, so please, follow me.”

San nods and follows Seonghwa over to a rack near the front of the store. A quick glance tells him that Seonghwa is right - San is impressed by the assortment, and he’s particularly taken by the striped number hanging at one end.

“I thought you might be interested in that one,” Seonghwa comments, taking the suit jacket off the rack and handing it to San. The fabric is exquisite to the touch, and the threading is impressively detailed. He’s a big fan of the notch cut and the lapels, and despite the continued patterning, the flaps manage to stay inconspicuous.

San looks up at Seonghwa to say that he’ll take it, and when their eyes meet, he’s stunned by the softness in the other’s gaze. The surprise must register on his face, because Seonghwa’s eyes widen in response, and San’s pleased by the faint pink that spreads across his cheekbones. 

“Yunho did say you were great, but I didn’t expect you to nail it on the first try. That’s impressive.”

“You flatter me too much, San.”

San hums, flattening down the left flap of the jacket. Then, he pauses.

“No more Mr. Choi, huh?”

San looks over just in time to see the panic pass over Seonghwa’s face.

“My apologies. Yunho was here on Monday, and he referred to you as such, so I must have picked it up.”

San grins, and Seonghwa purses his lips, eyebrows slightly raised in question.

“San is fine. It’s a bit odd hearing you call me Mr. Choi, anyways.”

Seonghwa lets out a muted exhale of relief, but the flustered look re-appears on his face when San laughs at the gesture.

“I think I’ll take this one,” San says, giving Seonghwa some repose. “There are matching trousers, yes?”

Seonghwa takes a pair of pants off the rack and hands it to San, who gives it a quick once-over. “Looks good to me.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa says, extending his hands to take the pieces from San. “I’ll get them tailored for you. I should be able to finish by the end of the week. For fitting, does Monday work for you?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

San takes a moment to think about it, and then his stomach rumbles loudly.

He clears his throat, trying to pretend like he doesn’t see the grin that has stretched across Seonghwa’s face. “Nope, that’s it.”

“Alright, then. By any chance, are you free after this?”

San blinks at Seonghwa, and the other stares back at him. He wonders which one of them is misinterpreting the sentence. “Sorry, what?”

Judging by the look on Seonghwa’s face, it’s San. “No, I mean,” Seonghwa fidgets, “Sorry, if you still have time, you could have a piece of the cake before you go. Because...you know.”

Truth be told, San has something scheduled, but Yunho could hang tight for a few more minutes. 

\---

“Oh, wow, this is great,” San says, though his words are a bit muffled by the cake in his mouth.

Seonghwa laughs, covering his mouth. Mannerful as he is, he finishes chewing and swallows before responding. “Yes, it’s quite nice. You chose well.”

“Thanks,” San grins. “Cake is one of my specialties.”

He then re-evaluates his own statement and cringes internally, and is for once thankful that Seonghwa probably isn’t hip enough to pick up on the unintended innuendo.

“That’s nice to know. What other specialties do you have?”

San resists the urge to waggle his eyebrows, deciding it too childish for the genuinely inquisitive man before him. “I’m pretty well-versed when it comes to fragrances.”

“Oh? Please do explain.”

“Yeah, you know, like eau de parfum and toilette.” San pauses. “I mean, like, scented fragrances and stuff. Sorry, that might have come off a bit pretentious.”

“That’s what they’re called though, no?”

San sighs melodramatically. “Finally, someone who understands me.”

“What are some of your favorites?”

“I’m a big fan of amber undertones, so Van Cleef and Arpels is always good. Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan is a close second, though, and you can’t miss with the labdanum in Silver Shadow. Even though a lot of guys stray away from single floral, I think that a hint is nice, and honestly it’s sometimes hard to discern the difference between certain floral bouquets and sandalwood.”

San chatters on excitedly, the question an open invitation for him to rant about the frankly disappointing cedar undertones in Montal. A few moments in, realization hits him, and San halts.

“Sorry, you probably weren’t asking for that much information,” San laughs, though it comes out a bit nervous from embarrassment. He can feel the heat rushing to his face, and looks away from Seonghwa.

“No, it’s okay. It’s adorable seeing someone get excited over something they really like.”

San’s face flushes fully pink. The conversation briefly lulls, and Seonghwa beats him to the punch to pick it back up again.

“Also, I meant to ask - how did the gala go?”

“Oh, it was fine,” San smiles, grateful for the change of pace. “The usual - I greet a bunch of people who say they know me but I can’t remember meeting anywhere, some guy makes a speech, and then at the reception, my mom goes around and tries to set me up with every available person at the event.”

Seonghwa laughs, mouth hidden by a napkin but sparkling eyes in view. San grins back sheepishly, then realizes he’s probably been smiling for too long and promptly shoves another forkful of cake into his mouth.

“Surprisingly, I can relate to the sentiment,” Seonghwa muses, and San tilts his head in curiosity. 

“My parents also try to set me up with every single person they find,” Seonghwa explains, looking down at his plate.

San’s not sure of what to say, so his brain of course picks the stupidest possible option and yeets it out of his mouth.

“I totally thought that you were married. Like, I’m really surprised that you haven’t been cuffed yet.”

Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows, and San’s a bit afraid that he’s offended.

“Cuffed?”

The fear calms at the realization that, no, Seonghwa’s not offended, he’s just a boomer.

Well, not exactly a boomer. Boomer-esque. Actually, is he a boomer? Thankfully, San is quick on his feet, and he’s able to phrase his curiosity as a joke.

“Sorry, how old are you again?”

Seonghwa catches onto him immediately. He quirks an eyebrow, but his lips do turn upwards. “How old do you think I am?”

San groans, and Seonghwa laughs. “You sound like every auntie at every party I’ve ever gone to.”

“That’s why you don’t ask the question,” Seonghwa shrugs, popping another bit of cake in his mouth with far too much content for San’s liking.

“Thirty?”

Seonghwa shrugs.

“Forty?”

Another shrug.

“You’re joking.”

Seonghwa motions to shrug again, but stops at the look of astonishment on San’s face.

“I’m thirty-four.”

San lets out a sigh of relief that’s more audible than he intended, but it’s thankfully covered by the sound of his phone ringing. Sadly, his ringtone is Wooyoung’s laugh, which doubles as the cries of a tortured hyena, and Seonghwa purses his lips, smile tugging at the edges.

“Youngsters these days,” he sighs, and San shoots him an incredulous look.

“You’re not even that old!” San exclaims before swiping to answer. Seonghwa flutters his eyelashes and mimes a hair flip, and San wonders if he should just cancel the hangout with Yunho altogether.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at Seonghwa’s.”

Yunho pauses. “Like, his store?”

“Yunho, do you really think so little of me?” San re-thinks the statement. “Actually, you don’t have to answer that. Yes, the store.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, San sees Seonghwa raise his eyebrows.

“Well then. Are you gonna be here soon? The reservation is only for an hour.”

“Yeah, I’ll head over right now. Sorry about that!”

Yunho sighs. “We both know that you’re not sorry.”

“Aw, Yunho, you know me so well!” San coos, and Yunho mock gags before hanging up.

San slides his phone back into his pocket and turns to make eye contact with an amused Seonghwa.

“I thought you said you were free for a bit.”

“I was,” San says with a shrug. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“That’s alright. Unlike you, I respect and value Yunho’s time.”

“Wow! And to think that you were so uptight the first time I came here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “I can go back to that, if you’d prefer it, Mr. Choi.”

Their eyes meet, and Seonghwa is the first to look away. “Well, anyways! I’ll let you be on your way now. Thank you for the gift.”

San doesn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s ears tinge pink, and he presses back a smile. “Yeah, no problem. See you next week!” 

\---

“Well, how do I look?” San asks, with jazz hands for emphasis. Seonghwa smiles at him.

“You look great.”

“Thanks, I know,” San beams, and Seonghwa scoffs, shaking his head in mock disbelief. 

“Is the fit alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” San says, shrugging his shoulders a bit. At the other’s silence, San looks up at Seonghwa. “Is something wrong?”

Seonghwa purses his lips. “Wouldn’t you say that the sleeves are a bit long?”

“Huh. Now that you bring it up, I guess so. Just by an inch or so, though, so it’s probably fine.”

For some reason, Seonghwa looks vaguely disappointed.

San blinks at him, and thinks that Seonghwa may have taken his comment as criticism. “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t said anything.”

“I can fix it and get it back to you on Thursday?” Seonghwa asks, though it’s more a statement than a question, and there’s a persistence in his expression that makes it hard for San to say no. Well, not that he would ever turn down an opportunity to see the older man. 

“Sure,” San replies. “Again, not that I’m not satisfied with how it is right now.”

Seonghwa gives him a steely smile, and San decides not to pursue the matter further. He wonders if he’s said something wrong, and quickly recounts their conversation. Nothing out of the ordinary, though the odd phrasing of Seonghwa’s initial question suddenly strikes him. 

“Why’d you ask me about the sleeves as if you already knew they were too long?”

“I have a trained eye for those types of things, so I could tell from the moment you put it on,” Seonghwa says.

The response comes almost a beat too fast, but San brushes it away, deciding that he’s overthinking things. “Ah, of course. My apologies for doubting your expertise,” he responds, voice tinged with humor.

Seonghwa sighs, but his eyes belie his amusement. “Just to double-check, would it be fine if I re-did your measurements right now?”

San’s learned to keep his schedule free around his appointments at the shop. “Yeah, I’m available for a bit longer.”

“Not going to leave Yunho waiting again, I hope?” Seonghwa muses, and he lifts his eyebrows at San’s exaggerated expression of offense before walking behind the counter and fetching the measure.

“I would never!”

Seonghwa quirks an eyebrow, and San grins unabashedly back at him. Seonghwa gestures towards San’s right arm, and San extends it. As Seonghwa leans in to take the measurement, San catches a whiff of something familiar.

“Are you wearing Ambre Imperial? From Van Cleef and Arpels?”

Seonghwa’s motions stutter briefly. It’s nearly insusceptible, but San’s looking at Seonghwa so intently that he catches it.

“Yes. You seemed to know what you were talking about with fragrances, so I picked it up when I saw it in store.”

San gives a hum of delight. Seonghwa retracts the tape measure and looks back up at the younger, whose lips are now quirked up at the corners.

“What?”

“I’m just flattered that you took my advice. You smell great.”

The statement sounded less weird in San’s head, and he’s glad that Seonghwa lets it slide with a chuckle. “Of course, I’m glad you like it.”

\--- 

“It’s so fucking hot in here,” Wooyoung whines, and San smacks him on the arm, giving him a warning glare. A prominent mogul passes by, and San, Wooyoung, and Yunho bow courteously before resuming their conversation.

“Jesus, Woo, you need to be more aware of your surroundings,” San sighs, and Wooyoung shrugs.

“I already got my business deal secured last week, so I have nothing to worry about.” Still, he glances around them before continuing. “This suit jacket is so fucking itchy. Yunho, what was that suit place you were telling me about earlier?”

“Oh, Seonghwa’s place. I’ll text you the address. Speaking of Seonghwa,” Yunho turns to address San, “Your order was scheduled for last Friday, right? Is the suit you have on the one you got from his shop?”

San shakes his head. “No, I went in for the fitting, and the sleeves of the jacket were a bit long, so Seonghwa’s gonna do some more tailoring. I should have it by Thursday, though.”

“Oh, that’s weird,” Yunho muses.

“What?”

“Maybe it’s just by chance, but Seonghwa’s never made a mistake like that before with any of my orders. Or any of Yeosang or Hongjoong’s orders, I think.”

“Oh.”

"Maybe he was just having an off day," Yunho offers.

San is a bit suspicious of the shit-eating grin that has spread across Wooyoung’s face. 

“You know, maybe he did it on purpose,” Wooyoung teases. “Just so he could see you again. I know you bought him a cake a few weeks back - is there something you’re not telling us, dear Sannie?”

San rolls his eyes. “No. My relationship with Seonghwa is strictly professional.”

 _"My relationship with Seonghwa is strictly professional_ ,” Wooyoung mocks, voice oddly pitched and doubly annoying. God, does San really sound like that? “Sure, San. Sure.”

San looks to Yunho for shared skepticism, and he’s surprised to see that the other is looking warily at him. “Don’t tell me that you’re taking Wooyoung’s side.”

“You have talked about Seonghwa an awful lot lately. And the last time I went to pick up my order, he brought you up without my asking.”

_He did?_

San squashes his eagerness and shrugs. “I stand by what I said.”

The fact that his heartbeat has picked up tells San that maybe he shouldn’t.

\---

“You’re spot-on this time,” San says, buttoning the jacket across the front.

Seonghwa smiles at him and nods. “Yeah, seems so.”

The two of them stand in silence for a few moments, and for once, the quiet is comfortable. Still, like all things, it has to come to an end, and San’s the one to put it to rest. 

“It’s about time I paid you, then, huh?”

“Really? I thought you were planning to just walk out on me.”

San doesn’t miss a beat. “Can’t have it on my record, right?” Seonghwa laughs, and perhaps it’s San’s own emotions filtering through, but the sound isn’t as cheerful as it usually is.

The two make their way over to the counter, and the silence stretches onwards. San fidgets in place, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. The quip that Wooyoung made at the conference hangs fresh in his mind, but he figures that it’s probably inappropriate to bring it up to Seonghwa.

Neither of them make conversation as Seonghwa folds and places the items, and when he hands San the bag, the quiet makes everything feel even more final.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

San hesitates for a moment, then looks away.

“No, that’s all. Thank you so much.”

“Oh.” San figures that he must be imagining the disappointment in the other’s voice, because when he looks back at Seonghwa, the older is smiling. “Great. I’ll see you out, then?” 

San raises his eyebrows. “How come you’ve never offered before?”

Seonghwa shrugs. “It’s the end of the order, so I thought it’d be fitting.”

The two walk to the door, and the quiet turns painful.

“It was great working with you, San,” Seonghwa says, pushing open the door. He extends his hand, and San shakes it.

Seonghwa's fingertips brush against his palm as they pull apart, and San wavers. "I, uh, have a conference coming up next month, so maybe I could…” A warm blush spreads across San’s cheeks, because he really doesn’t have a good excuse for wanting another suit. “If you have the time, we could schedule another appointment some time soon?"

As always, though, Seonghwa saves him from wallowing in his own embarrassment, and San startles and looks up at the older when he places a gentle hand to San’s forearm.

“Yes,” Seonghwa smiles. “That’d be great.”

\---

And that’s how San finds himself at Seonghwa’s shop, again. After closing, for the third time this week, and probably the tenth time this month.

“You know, if you keep ordering suits like this, people are going to get suspicious.”

San shrugs, nuzzling closer to Seonghwa. He revels in the way the older’s breath hitches when San leans in and ghosts his teeth over the shell of his ear. 

“Let them be. It’s the best excuse I have to come see you.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “You could just drop by, you know.”

San shrugs, moving his lips down to Seonghwa’s neck, enticed by the way he shivers at the warmth. “They’re nice suits. Besides, at this point, it’s more of a tradition. If I hadn’t kept ordering when this all started, you would never have agreed to keep seeing me.”

Seonghwa turns to place a kiss on San's forehead. “Maybe, but it’s been a while since then. Now you’re welcome to visit without buying anything.”

“Yeah, but I think it’s cute watching you get so excited over cuff links.” San feels Seonghwa smile against his temple.

“Always such a charmer, aren’t you?”

\---

San sits impatiently on the bed, half naked and fully annoyed.

Seonghwa lets out a laugh when he takes in San’s expression. “I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t afford to get this suit dirty.”

San rolls his eyes. As soon as Seonghwa’s rid of his suit jacket and his trousers, he gets up and yanks the older onto the bed. Seonghwa falls with a yelp that’s far too adorable for someone with half of their button-up undone, and San decides that he’s actually very content that Seonghwa hasn’t taken all the garments from work off.

“San—” Seonghwa begins, but it’s cut off when San crashes their lips together. Seonghwa’s tense, at first, but he doesn’t push San off, nor does he protest when San snakes his tongue between the older’s lips. From thereon out, Seonghwa is quick to relax, though he jolts when San brings a finger to his chest to tease at one of Seonghwa’s nipples.

Seonghwa lets out a muffled moan, and San pulls back just to have the delight of seeing Seonghwa’s face flush. The older brings a forearm to his eyes, obscuring part of his face, and San can see Seonghwa’s nipples perking up underneath the sheer white fabric of his button-up.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” San smirks, using a hand to bring Seonghwa’s arm down. Seonghwa’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks up at San, face tinged a pink that’s lovely against the honey of his skin. Though San hasn’t even done much, Seonghwa looks far more tousled than he was before, and San is overwhelmed by the urge to keep taking Seonghwa apart until he’s a complete wreck beneath him.

Over the fabric of the older’s shirt, San brushes his hands over Seonghwa’s nipples, and the simple action is enough to get Seonghwa writhing, breathy moans tumbling from his parted lips. He whimpers when San twists a nub between his thumb and pointer finger, and San latches his lips to the juncture between Seonghwa’s neck and shoulder before continuing downwards, kissing a line to the plane of the older’s chest.

He wraps his lips around one of Seonghwa’s nipples, tightly teething at it, and Seonghwa flinches and lets out a cry. San’s enamored with how sensitive the older is, and he makes his way over to give the same amount of attention to the other bud. After drawing a few more moans from Seonghwa, San leans back to admire his work. Seonghwa’s eyes are already a bit glazed over, and the reds bloom beautifully against his skin. Still, San thinks that the sight could be made even more enticing.

He shifts downwards and pulls Seonghwa’s briefs off, marveling in the contrast of Seonghwa’s hard, reddening cock against the innocent white of his shirt. San pulls the bottom of the button-up down, the stretch barely covering Seonghwa’s length. Given how transparent the shirt is, it doesn’t do a good job at that, anyways. Pulled taught, the garment strains against Seonghwa’s shoulders and lies flush against his chest, somewhat wet around Seonghwa’s nipples from where San had licked them. The sight is so lewd that San can’t help but stop and stare, and he grins as some pre-cum from Seonghwa’s cock smears and leaves a dark spot against the fabric. Seonghwa lets out an embarrassed whimper and reaches down, resting his hand lightly above one of San’s.

“You’re really gonna pretend to be embarrassed, huh? Even when we both already know how much of a slut you are?”

Seonghwa’s cock twitches against the fabric. San leans down, fists still bunching the ends of the garment, and blows on Seonghwa’s length, eliciting a whimper from the older. He ghosts his mouth along the outline, and Seonghwa fidgets non-stop underneath him. San lets go of one end of the shirt and uses the hand to press Seonghwa’s hip down. “Stop moving,” San says, glancing up to give Seonghwa a warning glare. Seonghwa stops shifting for a bit, but starts anew when San presses his mouth to Seonghwa’s tip.

“What the fuck did I just say,” San hisses, and Seonghwa stills with a whimper. San looks up at him, and though Seonghwa’s pouting, the desire San feels is mirrored in the older’s eyes.

“You know, angel, I hate to do this,” San begins, straightening up and making his way to the head of the bed. He hovers over Seonghwa, bringing a dangerously gentle hand to rest on the older’s cheek. Seonghwa’s pout grows deeper at the false sympathy in San’s voice. “But I think that you need to be punished for not listening.”

Seonghwa sulks, but offers no words of complaint. He understands what he has to do, and San’s smile is cloying as Seonghwa gets up and shifts, presenting himself in San’s lap. San can feel Seonghwa’s cock leaking against his thigh, and he purposefully shifts his leg to draw a whine from the older.

Really, it’s just another excuse for the slap that he brings down on Seonghwa’s ass. Seonghwa jolts and bites his lip to avoid crying out. “That’s right, shut the fuck up, bitch,” San growls, adding another print beside the one rapidly blooming. “Why don’t I hear any counting?”

“Two,” Seonghwa breathes out, but it’s disappointingly belated, because San brings his hand down again. “Th-three,” Seonghwa gasps, shifting a bit in San’s lap. His cock rubs against San’s thigh, providing delicious friction, and the moan is out of his mouth before he can register it.

Another sharp slap resounds through the room, and Seonghwa lets out a tiny whimper, breaths now rapid and shallow. “F—four.”

San smooths one hand over the welts on Seonghwa’s ass and twists the other in his hair, yanking Seonghwa’s head back. Seonghwa looks at him, eyes watering and apologetic, and San coos at him.

“I’m sorry, precious, but you need to be punished when you do something bad, yeah?”

Seonghwa lets out a weak hum of agreement, and the soft look in San’s eyes steels before he lands another slap on Seonghwa’s ass. “Five,” Seonghwa chokes out, the words somewhat garbled from the way his throat is stretched back.

San loves how he can do this to Seonghwa, how Seonghwa _lets_ him do this - lets San wear him down until he’s a mere, unrecognizable shell of his usual, regal self, until the only thing left is a sputtering, needy mess that’s desperate for San’s praise. Still, the way that Seonghwa is trembling prompts San to shift gears, because power comes second to comfort and the next best thing is when Seonghwa, despite being the older of the two, lets San take care of him.

“Thank you, angel,” San says, finally releasing his grip on Seonghwa’s hair. Seonghwa lets his head fall forward onto the mattress, the bulk of his energy relegated to tempering his breathing. San runs a comforting hand along his back as Seonghwa regains his bearings, blinking the tears out of his eyes. “You’re going to be good for me now, right, doll?”

Seonghwa flushes at the pet name, and San’s smile grows wider. “Yes,” Seonghwa says, looking back to give double the affirmation with a fervent nod.

“Okay. Come here,” San says, extending his arms. Seonghwa sits up, wincing a bit from the sting on his ass, but quickly finds his way into San’s lap.

“So needy for me, huh, precious?” San teases, poking the tip of Seonghwa’s cock, darkening to purple under the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa whispers, burying his face into San’s neck. San chuckles, running his finger along the ridges that strain against the garment, highlighted by the wet spots of Seonghwa’s pre-cum. Seonghwa shivers in his embrace, and San presses his lips to the older’s temple.

Seonghwa pulls back to look at San, eyes wide. San tilts his head in question, and smiles when Seonghwa puckers his lips. San’s happy to oblige, and happier still when Seonghwa sighs contentedly into the kiss, a hand coming up to rest on San’s shoulder. Swiftly, though, Seonghwa retracts his hand, remembering that he wasn’t given permission to touch.

“It’s okay, angel,” San reassures, hand coming to rest softly on Seonghwa’s hip. Delight again finds its place on the older’s face, and he places his hand back on San’s shoulder and leans in for another kiss. This time, San deepens it, sucking gently on Seonghwa’s tongue, pulling a moan from the older. Seonghwa’s reminded of how achingly hard he is, and he tries to resist rutting against San. Still, despite his best intentions, his hips buck up, and he feels San grin into the kiss before pulling back.

“Getting impatient?” San chuckles, and Seonghwa wants to shake his head, but the answer is obvious. So, he gives a meek affirmation and nods, eyes downcast. San chuckles and brings a hand up to smooth Seonghwa’s hair back, tucking a particularly long piece behind his ear.

“That’s okay. My angel was so good about his punishment that I’ll give him a treat.” With that, San closes his fist over Seonghwa’s cock, and Seonghwa throws his head back, moan ripping out of him. He whimpers as San continues fisting him over his shirt, the friction lovely. Seonghwa feels like crying out of embarrassment at the fact that he’s staining the garment like this, but he and San both know how much Seonghwa loves it to let go of his pride and let San shame and break him only to put him back together again.

“I’m c—close,” Seonghwa stutters out, breathing strained. He can feel San’s smirk against his temple.

“You can hold it for me, can’t you, precious? Just a little bit longer?”

Seonghwa nods, willing himself back from the edge, sniffling in effort. San presses a soft kiss near his eyebrow. “So good for me, angel.”

Seonghwa wouldn’t be caught dead having San call him that in public, but here, in the privacy of his bedroom, it’s so, _so_ good, and Seonghwa thinks that he could probably cum from hearing the pet name alone. He almost does, had San not sensed it and wrapped his hand tightly around the base of Seonghwa’s cock, somewhat stuttering his release.

“Ahh—I’m, ah, sorry,” Seonghwa whimpers, pulling back a bit, looking at San with teary eyes.

San looks at him plaintively, and Seonghwa holds his breath, wondering what San will decide.

“You did try your best, though, right?”

Seonghwa nods furiously, the intensity of the motion causing some of the dew on his eyelashes to drop down onto his cheek.

San smiles, wiping a droplet away with his thumb. “Then it’s alright, angel.”

Seonghwa wants to cry at how small he feels, curled up in San’s lap like this, weaknesses completely bared to the younger. It’s in a good way, though, particularly when San says things like that, things that cause warmth to spread through his entire body until Seonghwa’s practically tingling with satisfaction.

“Do you think you could get yourself ready for me, precious?”

Seonghwa’s face brightens up, and he gives a delighted hum of affirmation before turning to the nightstand, fishing out the tube stashed in the second drawer.

He motions to hand it to San, but San leans away. “I’d love to see you do it yourself, doll.”

Seonghwa purses his lips and nods, and San shifts down the bed before gesturing for Seonghwa to sit up against the frame. Seonghwa does so, then pops the cap and drizzles a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He looks at San for confirmation, and the other nods.

Seonghwa spreads his legs, shirt shifting with the movement and rubbing against his cock. Usually, just a brush wouldn’t do much, but Seonghwa’s so sensitive now that he whimpers at the friction, and again as he brings a finger down to circle his own hole.

Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he slips a finger in. Seonghwa inhales sharply, but pushes forward, and it's not long before he eases another digit alongside the first. His lashes flutter at the sensation, and he lets his eyes drop closed for a second before he opens them to look up at San.

The younger is staring at him with a gaze that’s part adoration, part desire, and it’s absolutely perfect.

“I wish these were your fingers, instead,” Seonghwa breathes out, inserting a third digit for emphasis. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the board of the bed, entire body heating up from the knowledge that San is watching him finger himself open.

San groans, and Seonghwa levels his gaze to see the younger palming at his own erection. Knowing how much it affects San, Seonghwa works harder, fingers moving even faster. After a few more seconds, he feels a hand wrap around his wrist. San eases Seonghwa to take his fingers out, then swiftly replaces them with his own. Seonghwa moans as San picks up the pace, lips coming to latch on the column of Seonghwa’s neck.

“Are you ready, angel?” San murmurs. Seonghwa gives a hum of affirmation, spreading his legs wider. San smiles, then shifts back so Seonghwa can slide down so his back is flat against the mattress.

When San finally pushes into him, Seonghwa cries out, the stretch divine. He loops his arms around San’s neck as the other thrusts into him, words of praise spilling from his lips, and Seonghwa feels so _full_. He can barely recognize the sounds spilling from his own mouth, but San is just that good to him. It's not long before the ecstasy that Seonghwa feels bubbles up and spills over. He finishes, San's name on his lips, and he feels the hot spurts of his own cum hitting his abdomen. San thrusts faster still, and Seonghwa can feel San's cock twitching inside him as San reaches his own high.

After taking a second to catch his breath, San pulls out and climbs up next to Seonghwa. He wraps an arm around the older’s torso and rests his head on Seonghwa’s chest.

“You did so well, baby,” Seonghwa murmurs into his hair, and San lets out a small, strangled noise that makes Seonghwa laugh. “You make me feel so good.”

San shifts to look up at Seonghwa, face flushed a light pink. He looks like he wants to protest, but just lets out a rather unconvincing whine. Seonghwa chuckles, carding his fingers gently through the younger’s hair. “I’ll go run us a bath, yeah?”

This time, San does protest, bolting so that he’s upright on his knees. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, okay,” he huffs, and Seonghwa thinks that he’s absolutely adorable.

Seonghwa gives him a soft smile. “Okay.”

San looks content, and he scrambles off the bed and extends a hand out to the older.

“What, you’re not going to carry me?”

San blinks at Seonghwa for a few seconds, and before Seonghwa can append an “I’m joking,” San slides one arm beneath Seonghwa’s shoulder blades and loops the other under his knees.

“Wait, you don’t have to—”

With a quick peck to his nose, San hoists Seonghwa up, and the older is a flustered mess in San’s arms as he proceeds towards the bathtub. 


End file.
